


All the Right Moves

by mercurybard



Category: Alice (2009)
Genre: Blood, M/M, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-11
Updated: 2011-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurybard/pseuds/mercurybard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the wrong friends in all the wrong places, so, yeah, we're going down...</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Right Moves

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Alice belongs to Syfy, not me. Title comes from "All the Right Moves" by OneRepublic.

It starts with a shoving match that goes a bit too far. Hatter says something (when does he ever not?), and March slugs him across the mouth. In an altercation with a less scrappy fellow, that might have been the end of it, but Hatter being Hatter, he just drags March down as he falls and they continue their tussle in the dirt.

By the time March gets him pinned, they’re both breathing hard and Hatter can’t even recall what started this whole squabble. Probably nothing much—it’s been easy as pie to rile March since he got his implants in. Two sessions and he’s already so fast that Hatter didn’t see that fist coming until it split his lip. There’s blood smeared across his chin and more still oozing up from the cut, the taste of pennies slowly filling his mouth.

March is frozen over him, pinning Hatter’s hands to the ground by his ears. His own cybernetics are useless in this position: the thin sheathes of metal intertwined with the bones of his hands and lower arms requiring momentum to activate their power punches. A flaw in the design, maybe, but Hatter’s long understood that to stop moving is to die, especially when a person cultivates the kind of life he seems to be living.

He’s stalled out now with March just staring down at him. No, not at him…at his mouth and the blood decorating it. Hatter fights the urge to lick at his lip. “Hey, March…hey. ‘How cheerfully he seems to grin...’” It’s a trick Hatter used to use on March when they were small and March got lost deep in his own head.

March sways a bit, his fingers digging deeper into the flesh of Hatter’s wrists. “’How neatly spreads his claws…’” Swaying and leaning closer until his face’s just inches from Hatter’s. His eyes, deep set and dark as currant jelly, so close and seeing-but-not-seeing. Hatter’s always known March’s a bit gone ‘round the bend, but it’s never scared him before. It’s also never been focused on him before. He bucks, trying to shake March off. “’…And welcomes little fishes in…’” March bends down, drags his tongue across Hatter’s chin, then pulls back. “’…With gently smiling jaws.’” The smile he gives him then is mad but a little hesitant, like maybe if Hatter tried to shake him off then, he’d let him.

For reasons he can’t explain even to himself, Hatter doesn’t. He lays there as March leans in again and licks some more at the sticky blood that stains his face. “You, my friend, are a strange one,” he mutters; March answers with a swipe of tongue across Hatter’s lower lip, chasing the freshest drops. The lick turns to a suck, and Hatter arches as March catches his poor lip between his teeth and worries at the cut. March presses him back down to the ground, pinning him with his hips.

Hatter pushes and shoves until the attack on his lip is more of a kiss than an assault. It takes March a moment to catch on, but then it takes more than a few speed enhancements to keep up with the Hatter. It’s as predictable as fighting, but scads more fun. Hatter snakes a leg across the backs of March’s, ensnaring him as effectively as March has him trapped against the ground in this odd parody of their earlier squabbling. That bloodthirsty tongue traces over the cut on Hatter’s lip again and again until on one slip into Hatter’s mouth, Hatter catches it between his teeth and bites down. Above him, March shudders, the muscles in his arms stiffening and his thumbs shoving hard between the bones of Hatter’s wrists. Hatter grinds up and groans out loud as he comes. “Very strange indeed,” he pants. “Now, get off.”


End file.
